


Yuri??? in Ice

by idea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: EVERYTHINGS A JOKE!!!, High School AU, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, REALLY OMFG, SOMETIMES A CRY, Sadish, Shit, Thriller, Very Emo, i don't want to go back and edit that tag, im sorry, inspired by autocorrect, inspired by typos, my wife is a joke, myself to sleep, not reallg, oh well, possible smut...? nah prolly bot, purposefully emo, quadmonthly updates, that was a typo, that wasn't a typo, viktor has long hair, what the heck come after 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:51:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idea/pseuds/idea
Summary: "Everything in the world is beautiful, but Man only recognizes beauty if he sees it either seldom or from afar."This a story of self discovery, of cherishing, of learning to love ones self before loving another, and every trial and tribulation that arises when love blossoms in the heart of a young soul with a skeletal figure and tattered dreams. This is a story of anguish, and analgesia.





	1. Quad 1: And When You Walk, Your Leg Becomes Distorted

Viktor was scared, to say the least. He had worked up the audacity to ask Yuuri to prom, regardless that he himself was a senior, and Yuuri a freshman. 

However, it'd been 8 days, and he had yet to hear from him. Was he being avoided? He pondered, тоска* obvious in his face. The day was prolonged, and his 7th period class a millennia. He watched the clock intently, and hearkened to the bray of his throbbing сердце**. 

He whipped out his LG Ice Cream Smart 2 in shade bubblegum pink and texted Yuuri, light of his life, fire of his loins, his sin, his soul, Y-uu-ri. He knew it was futile, even prior to him sending a desperate text to his young starlet. 

He was getting irritated; fury ( or should I say Yuuri) coursing through his veins. Why was he being avoided? He remembered to say 'no homo' in his heavy Russian accent, so why was he being dismissed? He was too incompetent to decipher the enigma that which was Yuuri. 

"What a шлюха***"  
Viktor muttered sullenly to himself, attracting the eyes of onlookers. Mr. Giacometti promptly scolded him for using such profanity. 

"Tch." 

The bell struck 14:31, and triggered a shrilling alarm. Amidst the tidal wave of pushing and shoving bodies, oozing hormones as if they were a Febreeze™ Air Freshener flavoured with testosterone, Viktor languorously shuffled through the crowds, his career in figure skating making him extremely agile and light on his feet.

He felt the blazing, retching apprehensiveness strike in his esophagus. Nurturing feelings of abandonment, yet harrowing the sliver of hope that Yuuri just wasn't checking his BlackBerry. Viktor tapped his foot against lifeless, cheap vinyl flooring; he had anticipated this being Yuuri's class. Viktor's diligence only let him muck around for ten minutes before giving in, and resolutely deciding to leave and not pester Yuuri. 

By the time he left, the school was desolate, destitute. He began his trek home, with his phone on do not disturb, or maybe it wasn't. He couldn't tell, only Yuuri had his number, and he was never to text him anyway. In fact, was he even coming to school anymore? He'd not seen him in the halls. Was he that desperate to avoid him? Enough to switch schools? Maybe switch states? (he could be in Louisiana for all he knew) Switch countries, even? No, Viktor was being ridiculous at this point. 

He couldn't subdue the sigh that passed his lips. He slipped an earbud into his ear and silently sings along to the vague, but solemn lyrics written only by Morrissey. 

Oh mother I can feel the soil falling over my head  
Another climb into an empty bed  
Oh well, enough said  
I know it's over still I cling  
I don't know where else to go

.....

I know it's over  
And it never really began  
But in my heart it was so real  
You even spoke to me and said  
"If you're so funny, why are you on your own tonight?"  
"And if you're so clever, why are you on your own tonight?"  
"If you're so very entertaining, why are you on your own tonight?"  
"If you're so very good looking, why do you sleep alone tonight?"  
I know, because tonight is just like any other night  
That's why I'm on my own tonight 

...........

Love is natural and real  
But not for such as you and I, my love 

He'd never felt lyrics to a song so deeply, as if they were a dull ache to his soul, than he had now. It was an idle day, no breeze nor chill nor obnoxious heat; an utterly lukewarm day. 

It took longer, than any other day, to arrive at his house, but after eventually doing so (and struggling to open the door with his key) Viktor briskly shuffled upstairs and flopped onto his bed, pulling the scrunchie out his hair and allowing his silver hair to fall onto his shoulders and his head to fall, once again, against his deflated pillow. 

 

Prom had yet to come, sands of time dribbling away into the hourglass of Infinite. Viktor had four insignificant rotations of Earth's axis before his impending downfall. Blinking wearily out of his notions, Viktor batted away tears of unspoken rejections. He wiped his eyes, scoffing at how pathetic he was acting. He was a girl whining over unrequited love (love? he wouldn't say that) 

His heavy eyes eventually closed and he promptly fell asleep, basking in the time he had to live in a world that was his own, but utterly disconnected from himself.


	2. Quad 2: Now I Know I've Got A Heart, Because It's Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo! Ich liebe dich für lesen! 
> 
> -discount German co-author

Viktor had never thought about it before, but as it seemed, his actions revolved entirely around Yuuri on an every day basis; what was he to do now that he was gone? (to wherever) 

He sighed, his LG Ice Cream Smart 2 in shade bubblegum pink sat idly, not buzzing nor vibrating. Not even the screen was illuminated, maybe it had died? It wouldn't matter if it did. He bought it so that he could contact Yuuri at any time he pleased. (let us remember the theme that Viktor's actions revolve around Yuuri) 

The days were copied and pasted (ctrl + c, ctrl + v), and before he knew it, the day of prom had arrived. He considered not going, for the sake of saving himself the humiliation of being stood up, but eventually decided against it; after all, what if Yuuri miraculously arrived, only to be seated alone, excluded from the sappy teen romances surrounding him. 

He considered going to Yuuri's house to directly consult him, maybe hold a boom box over his head and play 'Boyfriend' by Big Time Rush, but decided against that. Yuuri already hated him, supposedly, he doesn't need Yuuri's family to hate him additionally.

He was simultaneously in a box, and in a corner, all the while hopeless being multitudinous meters underground. What was he to do? There was no option for him to survive scar-free. 

He sighed, eyeing himself in the mirror. He was wearing a navy suit, accompanied by a deep gray satin necktie. You could say Viktor was quad-occasionally clairvoyant, and this was one of those occasions. He could picture exactly what he would spend his time doing. He would sit alone, on the roof, looking over those who wander in, and such budding romances with envy. Onlookers would glance at him with piteous eyes, absorbing the cliche they were witnessing, and then promptly forget about his existence. 

Was attending really worth it? 

He's basically warped to his high school. Nostalgia floods into him whenever he should walk in, this time was no different. Viktor followed his muscle memory to somewhere he know he can be seated and undisturbed, yet still a good view of those who walk in to the school (the roof).

The light from the sunset reflected onto the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms, and assortment of petals that blew in the wind. It would be a beautiful sight, in the company of someone, but this moment was not worth living when alone. 

He takes out his college ruled notebook (that he knew he would need to express his thoughts) and begins scrawling poetry....

Тоска, тоска, longingly I wait  
The arrival of my darling, distant  
Is a forgotten death my prescribed fate?  
The bray of my heart, inconsistent

"Is he coming?" I ponder  
"Will he arrive?" I think  
He must have gotten lost, and wandered  
My end, scrawled in ebony ink 

I'm hurt, I'm hurt, I sob in distress  
I ache from the lack of my starlet  
Would he have worn a cocktail dress?  
Or did he come with another? The harlot! 

Fury, rage, I whip out my phone  
A spiteful text I send him  
The prom is today, so why am I alone?  
I long for a mantra, or hymn

Remorse, remorse, morosely I wait  
At home he sits in his grith  
It was the same date, though my dame was late  
No, he never came to begin with 

The ink on the last stanza dramatically blurred from the saline tears that flowed from his eye sockets; and then the ink in the first stanza blurred from the pure water falling from the sky. Viktor felt personally attacked.

'Of course it would rain. I'm a walking cliche' 

He laughed bitterly to himself, and closed his notebook. He knew where he was going; he was going to the ice rink, life on the ice was the only thing he that would console him. 

Luckily the town in Oregon that he'd been living in for 9 years was small, and the walk to the rink was minor. He couldn't bare to shamefully walk past so many people in his act of exiting, so instead opted for climbing down the side of the school, various potential superhero names courses through his head. 

'Viktorma- no. Spidertor no fuck. Spibikorov god dammit.'

After he eventually made it down from the school, limbs positively shaking, he began to Naruto run his way to the rink, his scarf dramatically flowing in the air (since when did he have a scarf). 

When he arrived at the rink, he opened the doors and made his way in, waving to Minako (who's face looked like bloody Niagara Falls whenever Viktor acknowledged her, this time no different) 

He lost himself on the ice, closing his eyes and enjoying the ethereal feeling of simply skating, worries and anxiety utterly disintegrated. 

However, not looking where he was going was quite the vice in this situation, as his blades caught over something and he tumbled to the ground.

"What the fuck!" He curses to himself. "Damn, zambonis, they don't make them like they used to."

He opened his eyes to thoroughly glare at the supposed uneven ice that tripped him, only to find something completely unexpected; something he recognized. 

A dull, tarnished, black Blackberry phone only one person in 2016 would have... Yuuri.

"Yuuri! Come out! I know you're here! You can't avoid me forever!" Viktor shouted into the vast nothingness. There was no response, but he wasn't going to stop until he saw him. It'd been 12 days since he'd seen Yuuri, and he wasn't going to leave until Yuuri confronted him. 

"Curry! This is redikulous! Come out already! Have you been hiding in forest entire time? Where've you been??" 

No response.

"Hmmmrf!" 

"?!" Viktor hears the faint sound of a muffled voice. 

"Yugi? Is that you? Have you been kidnapped? Maybe if you didn't play in forest you would not have been kidnapped." Viktor chuckled to himself 'Good one Viktor' 'Thanks Viktor'

"Mmmhrrmphf!" 

Jokes aside, Viktor was concerned. He looked around frantically, trying to decipher the location of his Carmen. But eventually, something clicked in him, and slowly, eerily, ominously, glanced at his feet.

And underneath his feet, he saw Yuuri, encased in ice. 

"¡Ice, ice baby!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ciao! ;p
> 
> Sincerely,  
> "Incredibly Italian co-author"


	3. lmao some shit happened lololol

It's discount German co-author

There's been such terrible news. I regret to inform you that our beloved Italian co-author has had an incident. This is long over due, but I simply couldn't bear the grief. My lovely dear friend, wife, has broken almost all of her fingers, and both her wrists. It's a very dire situation, it's even hard to write this. Italian co-author can't even eat by herself, never mind type. It's very troubling to her family, and close friends. I'm terribly sorry, but this fic can't continue. 

-Discount German co-author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry my dudes it's deader than disco i fuCKING LOVE PRINCE NOCTIS SO MUCH

**Author's Note:**

> Everything's a joke-- updates quadmonthly
> 
> *Yearning  
> **Heart  
> ***Whore/slut


End file.
